


R is for Rose

by chileancarmenere



Series: Alistair Alphabet [18]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:58:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere





	R is for Rose

Kaillian is in the tiny inn, arguing with the terrified innkeeper. He wants an extortionate price and they are just barely scraping by, the handful of silvers that they do have having been scavenged off of dead darkspawn and fallen soldiers. Alistair kneels down in the small, dirty yard behind the inn and tries to take deep breaths to stave off the panic. He can feel the darkspawn hum in his blood; far away now, but growing closer with every minute, the hum becoming more and more intense. Soon enough, everyone in this town: brothers and nieces and quarrelling lovers, they’ll all be dead.

A flash of color across the yard catches his eye. It’s bright red, standing out against the greyish-brown surroundings. He goes over to investigate and finds a rose, a single, brilliant rose. Its petals are still butterfly-soft with dew, curling around a sunset-red centre. He turns to go back in, but hesitates and looks back at the rose. It grows beside the waist-high wall, but not leaning on it, standing up straight and brave like a soldier. Like a Grey Warden.

He bends and plucks the rose up, cradling it in his callused palm. The darkspawn whisper in his ears but this is one beautiful thing they will not pollute. Not if he can help it.

The rose dries out over time, but he keeps it carefully wrapped in a length of silk that he pays a ludicrous price for in Redcliffe. He tucks it carefully in his breastplate every morning and it becomes a sort of talisman to him, something to look at when he feels that their task is hopeless. When ordinary men and women spit on them and curse them, when Kaillian comes running out of a store at full-tilt shouting that they have to go or they’ll have half a dozen angry villagers with pitchforks after them, he touches the rose and remembers that there is something beautiful yet in the world.

So when he begins to look at Kaillian in a different way, to see her as something beautiful and worth preserving in a world gone to a dark hell, it seems only a likely progression to hold out the rose, one night in camp. Its petals are dried and crinkly, but its brilliant color and enchanting scent have not faded.

“What’s this?” She spins it gently by its spine, plucked clear of thorns.

“My new weapon of choice,” he deadpans. “It’s a rose, actually.”

“Well, I could see that. I mean, why are you giving me a rose?”

He has a million reasons to do so and how could he ever explain to her, because of the million associations he’s made between the rose and her, and maybe she could just learn to read his mind because it’d be easier, so he ends up saying something stupid like “Every time I look at it I’m reminded of beautiful things and when I look at you I think of the same thing” which is not half as articulate as he was hoping and now she’s looking at him like he’s the village idiot.

“You think of me as a beautiful flower?” She punches his arm affectionately.

“Ow,” he complains, rubbing his arm. “You both have thorns. No, what I meant was that it reminds me that there’s always something beautiful and worth preserving in the world. And I think you’re also really beautiful and worth preserving, not that I don’t think you’re incapable of preserving yourself and _Maker dammit I’m awful at this, I was just trying to give you a_ _compliment_ …” He trails off as he realizes that he’s said the last bit out loud.

She bursts into giggles and Alistair burns as red as the rose. Right. This is the last time he messes with a romantic gesture. From here on in, he’s strictly business.

“You are so sweet.” She pauses, then leans in to kiss his cheek with lips soft as rosepetals.


End file.
